


The Mistletoe Incident

by NeverKnightfire



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Christmas, Flirting, Fluff, Holiday Traditions, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28307136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverKnightfire/pseuds/NeverKnightfire
Summary: It was a far from harmless plant.
Relationships: Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102





	The Mistletoe Incident

**Author's Note:**

> Just something stupid and last-minute for the holiday.

“Ab-so-fucking-lutely NOT." 

Husk eyed the sprig of thick, rounded leaves and white berries with a distrustful grimace, even as Angel Dust waved it overhead with one long, ribbon-wrapped arm. There was no way in this or any other Hell that Husk was going to allow anyone to hang motherfucking mistletoe above the bar. 

It would be a disaster, his own personal Pompeii; and the inevitable eruption of his temper would bury the inhabitants of the hotel in a raging skyfall of fury that he'd take years to live down. It would be the damned _Gimlet Incident_ all over again, and fuck knew he had thought that particular garbage train of embarrassment would never stop moving. 

Goddamned bullshit was what it was, he thought with a frown at the plant being dangled above his head. He'd been right then, and he was right now. And he'd be double-damned if he was going to let anyone make a fool of him with their holiday-themed bullshit. 

He'd burn the bar to the ground first. He'd set himself on fire first. He'd burn all of Hell down to the last circle before he allowed it to happen. 

"Come on, Husky!" Angel whined, wagging the bit of plant matter back and forth like the pendulum of a clock. A green metronome, counting down until doomsday, that's what it was. A time bomb, ticking away gleefully as it cut the fraying cords of his patience. Each second, the leash holding back the beast of Husk's vicious ire was coming closer to being cut. 

Part of him wanted it to happen. Part of him delighted in the thought of the faces of these idiots as they got a look at what happened when he stopped playing along with Alastor's ridiculous scheme and tore through their perceptions. 

He'd transform from the lazy drunk manning the bar to his full, bestial state, shredding their pitiful ideas and possibly their flesh. Maybe it would be an overreaction, but goddamn it all it would be satisfying in the moment. 

It was always so satisfying in the moment. 

It was always so mortifying afterward, though. That thought kept him anchored, his patience moored tightly in the grip of self-control. Losing his temper just meant he was getting made a fool of in a different way by putting on a different kind of performance. 

A guy had to remember that in these days of wretched smart phones that took video, you never knew who the audience for your indiscretions would be. 

Angel was still talking, going on about the supposed properties of the plant still clutched in his hand. Husk's attention tuned in again just in time to catch the phrase "sperm of the gods" and an unsettlingly lewd wink, and he promptly turned off the part of his brain that had thought it was a good idea to see what the idiot was saying. 

Curiosity may not have killed the cat, but it made him nauseous. "Sperm of the gods", indeed. 

His ears swiveled to take in the sounds of decorating coming from across the room. The Princess and her girlfriend were good-naturedly arguing about the virtues of decorating versus laying traps for Krampus, veering off into speculation about decorating the traps into festive, seasonal snares. 

Charlotte's giddy tone as she expounded upon her long-running record of capturing "Uncle Krampy" was drifting across the room like a heavy snowfall. If one ignored the words in favor of the lilt of her voice, it was almost soothing. Lyrical, even. 

Oh. Husk blinked with the realization that Charlie had indeed broken into song. 

The effect of the Princess' magic washed over the room in a wash of pastel sparkles, rendering the half-decorated hotel lobby into a shimmering daydream of holiday delight. 

The air somehow smelled of rich cocoa and peppermint, copious twinkling lights flooded the area as his perception of the walls of the hotel faded, and an apparition of the slavering, nightmarish figure of Krampus himself stalked the occupants of the room. 

One by one, the image approached them. Each time, Charlotte swept in with a different method of capturing the ancient demon and demanded the traditional bribe of a gift for releasing him. By the conclusion of the song, Charlie was warbling a long, high note from atop a teetering mountain of brightly-wrapped boxes. 

Head thrown back so far that her seldom-seen horns were nearly lost in her fluttering blonde hair, she howled her final notes. Arms open wide over the haul of loot, she looked like a delivering angel of greed and mischief.

The front door swept open with a bang, and the illusion was shattered as Alastor strolled into the lobby, a heavy sack slung over his back. "My dear friends, the party can now begin!" the Radio Demon announced, setting his load down with an ominous thump. "Your patience is appreciated, and will amply rewarded!" 

His expression turned sly as he locked gazes with Vagatha, who was giving him a look of contemptuous suspicion. He grinned at her in the way that always made the feathers along Husk's shoulder blades itch. "Yes, indeed! I have procured the... final touches to make this celebration truly... to die for!" 

The moth demoness immediately produced a large harpoon and a snarl of suspicion at the gleefully smirking Radio Demon. Husk rolled his eyes. Al did love to rile the princess’ viciously protective girlfriend up. The cat demon’s sharp nose could identify the contents of the heavy sack in the floor, and there was nothing more worrisome in there than potatoes. 

As Vaggie lecture-threatened the smirking Alastor, Husk frowned. What was it about tonight that had the chucklefucks in this place determined to get someone to lose their damned tempers? Husk reached behind the bar, selecting a lowball glass and pouring a finger of the alcohol. 

After a glance back at Charlie, who was attempting to defuse the situation before more weapons could be drawn, he poured another. Couldn't have the jackass getting bored too quickly. 

Satisfied, Husk shifted his position, turning a little to the side in invitation. 

"Oi, Davy Crockett," he called gruffly. "Yer damn whiskey's waiting on ya." With a flick of his tail and an aloof shake of his wings, Husk turned his back on them all and set to work polishing the glassware. It wouldn't take long before...

"HUSKER, my good man! Many thanks for the thoughtful hospitality!" 

There he was, Husk thought, turning to watch the bombastic figure approach and allowing himself a satisfied smirk. The feathered end of his tail brushed the ground in a pleased curl as Alastor seated himself at the bar and snatched up the offering. Angel Dust raised his sprig of mistletoe aloft, opening his mouth as he turned to face the demon beside him. 

Alastor’s eyes were closed, expression blissful as he sipped slowly on his drink. Outwardly, there was no sign that the deer demon even noticed the movement. His disembodied voice hissed from thin air, dispelling the peaceful illusion. 

"Angel, my poor, misguided soul; if any part of you gets any closer to me, I'll pull off all of your limbs and cram them down your throat."

Al's shadow servant stretched up ghoulishly from between the floorboards. The creature's form was hideously stretched; elongated, twisted limbs stretched and warped in a manner that made one's stomach twist in terror. Its mouth was a jagged, slavering maw of horror as it leaned over the startled Angel Dust.

The spider demon blinked dumbly up at the threat before dropping the mistletoe onto the bar. Al's shadow dissolved back into nothingness, leaving the stunned spider demon to shiver at its departure. Angel stood, managing to give a passing semblance of a theatrical shrug.

“Your loss, babe. I've got better parties than this to be at." Angel straightened his outfit, throwing a glare at Al before fluffing his hair and strutting away toward the front door. 

Husk huffed as he and Al were left alone at the bar. "Ya know, you should be careful, Al. What if he'd been into that?" 

Alastor set his glass aside and favored Husk with a disapproving, poisonous smirk. "Now you've put me off my drink, my dear. Shameful, that's what it is. Shameful and potentially quite wasteful." 

Husk scoffed, shuffling over to lean on the bar beside his old friend. "Just looking out for your well-being, Al. Someone's gotta keep an eye on your best interests." 

Alastor reached for his monocle, polishing the thing as he gave Husk a look of bemused scrutiny. "My best interests, indeed! Tell me then, my auspicious guardian, what is the meaning of your odd new nickname for me?" 

The cat demon's wings twitched, betraying the laughter he was suppressing. "I thought it was pretty damn clever. What, ya never heard of Davy Crockett? They say he faced down dangerous critters like bears with nothin' but a grin. Looked like you were trying to do the same thing with Vaggie back there, so..." 

Al replaced his monocle with a snort. "Dangerous? Why Husker, the young miss Vagatha is a vision of ladylike charm!" 

Husk looked up to see Vaggie experimentally prodding at Alastor's forgotten sack of potatoes with her harpoon. The sack shifted, falling over on the floor. One potato tumbled out, and the moth demon instantly had the hapless tuber impaled on her weapon. 

Husk nodded with a grimace. "Yeah. Charm. Her aim's pretty damn good for someone with no damned depth perception, too. That's going to be your tail instead of a tater if you keep making a pest of yourself. You're just a glutton for trouble, aren't ya?" 

The Radio Demon leaned back with a smile, picking up the discarded mistletoe. "I have, admittedly, been known to borrow a bit of trouble. Just from time to time, you know." Those damnable eyes, sly half-lidded spinels suspended in a wash of freshly-spilled blood, they positively glowed with mischief as they caught Husk's own. 

The cat demon felt his breath leave him at the sight. Then the corner of Al's mouth quirked upward, and Husk forgot how to breathe entirely. The spring of mistletoe danced as Alastor twirled it between his fingers. 

"And this did look like such intriguing trouble to borrow. Had you not summoned me yourself, I'd have had to come up with my own excuse to come see to it." 

"Wha?" Husk heard himself reply dumbly. Breathlessly. Disbelievingly. What in the name of all that was unholy was happening? 

"It's an intriguing plant, you know," Al mused, his own eyes turning to the bit of greenery between his fingers. "I recall doing a piece about it for a holiday show once, the history of the stuff and all that. Did you know-?" 

Husk's need for air came back to him all at once as the lock of their gazes broke. After catching his breath, he glared at the deer demon and his new acquisition. Somewhere in the background, Niffty was giddily recovering the forgotten spuds and bustling back towards the kitchen with the girls in tow. Husk ignored them to squint at his companion. 

"If you start in with that same garbage that Angel was telling me about celestial body fluids..." 

Alastor's gaze snapped back up to seize Husk's own once more, this time with a stern look of disapproval. "Gracious me, no! We were a classy program, Husker! No, the part that I recall being most amusing was the tradition... I believe it might have been Victorian? At any rate, this tradition involving kisses and berries. You see, when one kisses under the mistletoe, you are meant to take a berry from the plant."

The deer demon held the sprig up over their heads, and Husk reflexively looked up at the motion. Something brushed his cheek, and he recoiled with a feather-ruffled start to see Alastor pulling away and plucking a single white berry from the bunch. 

"Just like that, you see," Al continued, holding out his hand to show Husk the small bit of fruit. "And only one kiss is allowed per berry. Terrible misfortune is risked by taking more than one for one. It's a very strict exchange rate, darling." He held the plant up again, and gave Husk a rakish grin. "And one that the exchangers should never defile by taking lightly." 

Husk looked back and forth between the upraised mistletoe and Alastor's confident smirk. All he had to do was step forward, right?

He eased a half step toward the Radio Demon, who leaned across the bar and pecked his other cheek before pulling another berry from the plant. Another half step. Another blink and you've missed it brush of Alastor's lips against the side of his face. A full step, a kiss to the curve of his jaw. Another, and the bridge of his nose was receiving Al's lips. 

With one more step, he was standing against the bar, hands grasping the surface as he stared wonderingly into Alastor's smoldering eyes. One last berry still clung to the sprig overhead. Husk's breath was coming in quick, shallow spurts as he clenched his claws against the wood grain.

Alastor's gaze was considering, nearly tender as he studied Husk's slightly-parted lips. The cat demon looked so utterly disbelieving that it was nearly comical. It wouldn't do to laugh at the man, not here on the threshold of something so significant. 

Husk blinked as Al's free hand came up behind his head, carefully tugging his face downward. On the cat demon's forehead, right between the heart-shaped marks above his feathery brows, the Radio Demon placed a singularly gentle kiss. Not a mere quick press of his lips, this lingered, as if Alastor was trying to convey something too sweet and precious for clumsy words to express. 

At last, Al released him, and Husk blinked in owlish disbelief at the demon before him. Alastor stood, pulling the last berry free and dropping the newly-useless plant with a flourish. 

"Yes, a most intriguing plant indeed," the other demon chuckled. "And one with many delightful purposes." He held one of the pale berries up for inspection, teeth glinting as he smiled at the thing. "Just a little bit poisonous, as well. One must be certain to dispose of these pesky little things correctly, lest they wind up somewhere unfortunate."

He winked in a manner that Husk was familiar with, the look that said someone on his hit list was going to be getting a surprise case of toxic baked goods for Christmas. 

Husk shook his head, doing his best not to let on how utterly disappointed he was that after a nerve-rattling lead-up like that, he'd not only been denied a proper kiss but was now also about to be abandoned for some death muffins or something. 

"Must dash, my dearest!" Alastor announced before leaning in and dropping a sinfully brief caress of his lips on Husk's. "I've got quite the naughty list to sort out, and the holidays only come once a year, you know!" 

Al vanished in a flash of dark magic, leaving Husk alone at the bar with a bare piece of mistletoe. 

"Goddamn," the cat demon muttered, "A guy could get interested in horticulture."


End file.
